


a heart-load for each of us

by aeonsupon



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, Loneliness, M/M, Winter, thoughts on home, thoughts on the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonsupon/pseuds/aeonsupon
Summary: This is part of making a home together. When he can’t find his own warmth, Jeonghan brings it back into the house every day like cherry blossoms stuck to the bottom of his shoes in the spring.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	a heart-load for each of us

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeNMtfdx/) cover of As The World Caves In by Paravi Das. Title and some sentiments taken from “Oceans” by Mary Oliver. 
> 
> The stress of quarantine plus life in general plus the winter storms and power outages in Texas really got to my feelings and this happened… oops? It isn’t much, but I’ve been itching to post _something._ Unedited, but it is 2am. 
> 
> Anyways, happy birthday to 218 bros! I snuck in a little happiness just for you.

Jeonghan never was one much for personal space, or maybe it’s just that he’s learned when to crowd Seokmin’s space like this, cramming himself into the same old chair in the corner of their living room and pressing his limbs into the crevices where the cold tries to settle. His elbows are pink where they dig into Seokmin’s sides, his knees knobby where they knock against Seokmin’s, but Seokmin is grateful for the warmth filling in his empty spaces. Jeonghan presses a mug of Earl Grey into Seokmin’s hands, then covers them with his own. The cup is still too hot, but the burn is pleasant against Seokmin’s palms.

“Careful,” Jeonghan murmurs, hooking his chin over Seokmin’s shoulder and joining his staring contest with the world outside of the window. The front yard is blanketed with snow, the kind that Seokmin hasn’t seen since he was a kid. The trees in the front yard look unrooted and unreal, like they’re growing out of clouds in the darkness instead of soil and earth beneath the ice and snow. Beyond the drifting figures, the world bleeds into navy and gray, the snow stealing all of the light that would let Seokmin see the smiling house across the street. The world looks far-off and lonely, like it doesn’t belong to him anymore. The thought makes Seokmin feel unsteady, like he’s been tossed around a stormy sea for months; and really, hasn’t he?

It’s not right, Seokmin thinks, for their home to be so cold, for the sky to be gray so close to midnight and for so few cars to visit their street. It’s sweet to hear the neighbors' children giggle their way through powdery snow by day and to watch their tiny dog barrel through drifts of snow larger than him, a red bullet of a thing creating tiny snow flurries, wearing a winter vest to protect his thin little body from the unfamiliar ice; but here, at eleven p.m., when the lights give up again, the house feels like the kind of lonely that Seokmin has been trying to stave off for a year.

Jeonghan sighs quietly and flicks his phone’s flashlight on and pushes it to the edge of the threadbare seat. It illuminates the smudges on the coffee table and Seokmin remembers that he has to sweep, the crumbs caught between their tiles staring up at him accusingly. How tedious; there’s only a flicker of power here and there, and every moment of light is designated to housekeeping. The warmth of a kitchen is easy and natural to Seokmin, but he was never good at keeping a home like this. 

Jeonghan interrupts his worried thoughts suddenly, lifting his chin slightly and kissing the spot beneath Seokmin’s ear. “You worry so loudly,” he chuckles. His breath is soft and warm against Seokmin’s skin. 

Seokmin takes a deep breath. He shifts the flashlight up, leaning it against his knee so that the light reflects against the window, and he can make out the soft slope of Jeonghan’s nose and the fondness in his eyes. 

This is part of making a home together, he thinks. When he can’t find his own warmth, Jeonghan brings it back into the house every day like cherry blossoms stuck to the bottom of his shoes in the spring. 

“Do you ever wonder,” Seokmin asks quietly, “if the world will just end like this?” 

There is the looming threat of illness over them every day; the newsreel at nine resembles a horror film more than real media; and now hell is freezing over, or as good as. If Seokmin were to wake to burning skies tomorrow, he privately thinks he wouldn’t be surprised, wouldn’t even mind — he’d just pull Jeonghan closer, feel the tide of his breathing against his neck and keep the burning wind at his back so that he wouldn’t have to see the sky fall and crush the home they’ve built. This is how the world is meant to end; his love in his arms and his home the rubble around his feet, a reminder of the better times that were.

Jeonghan just smiles sleepily at him, warm and solid at his side as always. His index finger absentmindedly traces the pale green lines crossing the reds, the whites, the emeralds on Seokmin’s plaid pajamas. He’s wearing the matching pair to Seokmin’s, like it’s Christmas morning and not the end of the world.

“For someone so pretty,” Jeonghan says, “you think an awful lot.”

Seokmin startles a little and finally — he laughs. It’s soft, not loud enough to disturb the cold air of their living room, but it’s round and buoyant and alive. The dragon that’s taken residence behind his spleen doesn’t breathe out white smoke, and this, he can be thankful for. His home is not frozen over; there is a cup of comfort between his hands, topped with frothed milk the way he’s liked it ever since Jeonghan took him on their first date at that little cafe; and the love of his life is by his side, teasing his fears back into their dark corners. 

"You're awfully hard on yourself, my love," Jeonghan continues in a whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of Seokmin's mouth. "We're doing well. The world doesn't end like this." 

Seokmin leans his head against Jeognhan's and stares back outside the window. The trees in their front yard don't look so out of place, suddenly. The snow looks more like a dream than a threat, and dreams, he is familiar with. He can keep this.

The world doesn't end like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos make the author happy.
> 
> If you’re reading this close to the posting date, please look into what you can do for Texas. I’m lucky to have my power back, but many people are still in need of help.
> 
> If I’m lucky and I have the time and energy, I have a fic coming for Vernon in the next ~22 hours. Other than that, keep your eye out for the Soonwoo au I’m almost finished cooking up. Follow me on [twt](https://twitter.com/aeonsupon)  
> for updates!


End file.
